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abiding in the contemplative silence of what it means for me to love within my own reach – to walk beside the fearsome death loitering in the foreground of all our unspoken queries as we sense the gaze – to live & breathe alongside those who live & breathe in that long lonesome wait for the clapping praise that never seems to come - one good word can carry a woman thru fire – can raise a man above the treeline – how seldom we are free of it – keeping silence I hear it so loud in me – silence is for the brave or maybe the ignorant - i am neither
the static – when it settles - what fortress does He hold out for me that I’ve not yet reached for - not begun to grasp – what refuge reserved – what rest?
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